Coming up for air

Whew, it's been a busy time around our house. I've got a little gap before it gets really busy again, so a quick update.

I've finished the latest draft of my new manuscript, a crime novel called STASH THE CASH, and it's on Kelly's desk now. One more round of editing, then it goes to my agent in New York. Once it's done, I hope to write a short story or two before I plunge into the next novel.

The fall semester at the University of New Mexico starts Aug. 20, and I've got some more prep work to do for the class I'm teaching in the Honors Program: "The New Noir: Contemporary Crime Fiction for Today's Dark Times." Looking forward to introducing a new crop of students to noir stories.

We've had lots of company at our house the past few weeks. A dear friend from California visited for a few days, then both our sons (plus one girlfriend) came to visit and to attend Corona Days, the annual homecoming festival in Kel's hometown. It was great seeing so many relatives and friends there.

Amongst all this fun, I've been busy promoting A BOX OF PANDORAS, my comic mystery that came out exclusively on Kindle at the end of June. It's selling well, and has gotten splendid reviews on Amazon. Click here to see more.

In July, I gave speeches about e-books at both SouthWest Writers and the local Sisters in Crime chapter. Big turnouts, and the talks were well-received.

Coming up: I'm giving a half-day workshop on mystery writing for SouthWest Writers on Sept. 29. Details here. I'm also on a humor panel on Nov. 9 at the Tony Hillerman Writing Conference in Santa Fe. Click here for details. Looking forward to these events!

A busy, productive summer

It's been, um, (mumble-mumble) weeks since I last updated this blog, but I finally have a moment on a Sunday afternoon to catch up on what's been a very busy time.

Life is good in Albuquerque. Kelly's still enjoying her law-firm job after more than six months, and I've written a whole novel since PARTY DOLL debuted in February. Took me 10 weeks to write the first draft of STASH THE CASH, a novel about bank robbers who make a big haul only to have several people try to steal it from them. Lots of rewriting to come, but I expect to finish the revisions over the course of the summer.

My class in the University of New Mexico's Honors Program wrapped up in May, freeing up more time for writing. I had a great semester with some very bright students, and I'm looking forward to teaching "The New Noir: Contemporary Crime Fiction" next fall.

Sales of my e-books via Kindle and Smashwords continue to go well, and I've been experimenting with advertising the e-books through Google's Adwords program. Be interested to hear from any of you who might've seen one of those ads.

Yesterday, I joined Southwest Writers, and Kel and I enjoyed a SWW lecture on creativity by a local neuroscientist. I'm scheduled to speak to SWW next month about the e-book revolution, and I'm giving a similar talk to the local Sisters in Crime chapter on July 24. Also, I've been invited to be on a humor panel in November at the Tony Hillerman Writing Conference in Santa Fe.

One of the other authors on that panel will be Craig Johnson of LONGMIRE fame. Craig and his wife Judy were in town the other night for a booksigning, and we went out to dinner with them. Had a wonderful time. Craig is a natural-born storyteller, and he was a big hit with the standing-room-only crowd at Bookworks. We're looking forward to the TV premiere of LONGMIRE tonight.

June is typically the hottest month in Albuquerque, and we've been getting some smokey skies from that giant wildfire in southwestern New Mexico, but that hasn't stopped us from getting outdoors and going to cookouts, etc. Kel's planting flowers in our yard, and we both try to walk outdoors for exercise nearly every day. Our neighborhood near UNM is great for walking. Lots of trees and quiet streets, and the occasional roadrunner to keep you company.

We're looking forward to Summerfest and other Albuquerque activities over the next few months. But for now, back to those rewrites . . .

Left Coast was a fanboy's dream

Got home last night from New Mexico, where Kel and I attended Left Coast Crime, the annual mystery conference that this year filled La Fonda in Santa Fe.

Thanks again to the organizers for asking me to be Toastmaster for the event. I still feel bad that TSA confiscated those toasters I packed, and I was unable to supply any toast. But we seemed to make do with booze.

As Toastmaster, I was allowed to get up on stage before 400-plus people and make a complete ass of myself (as usual), and the conference paid my travel and lodging expenses, including a beautiful suite with a balcony and a fruit basket. Also, people kept buying me drinks. I had a very, very good time.

Some highlights:

--At the banquet, I sat with Martin Cruz Smith, one of my favorite authors. We talked about books and mutual friends and his wife was charming and I'm sure I was a drooling idiot the whole time. When I recognized him on stage for his Lifetime Achievement Award, I publicly professed my love for the man. A first for me.

--I shook hands with Brian Garfield, another favorite, and told him that his novel "Hopscotch" was one of the few I kept when we recently gave our personal library to charity and moved to the beach. He liked that.

--Laurie R. King lives here in Santa Cruz County, so I gave her a "howdy neighbor" at a terrific party we attended the first night. Katharine Neville (author of "The Eight") hosted a whole herd of us, including guest of honor Margaret Coel and Watson award winner Craig Johnson. Our pal Joe Badal drove us to the party, which allowed me to pour down all the wine I liked without endangering the general public. Thanks, Joe.

--I interviewed New Mexico author Steven Havill, another GOH, in front of a few hundred people, and we had a good time. Steven is a born storyteller who didn't need much prompting.

--Kel and I dined with one of our favorite people in the world, the ever-hilarious Bill Fitzhugh, who brought along his elegant 84-year-old mother and his wonderful sister (who lives in Albuquerque). Our dinner lasted hours, and I couldn't eat for laughing and telling stories. Fitzhugh did not shoot any spitwads at anyone this time because his mother made him behave.

--I was chatting in the lobby with Gar Anthony Haywood when film director Spike Lee happened by. (This sort of thing happens at La Fonda.) Gar had met Spike before, so he chatted with him briefly while I kept a stupid grin on my face. (I'm not saying Spike is a tiny man, but I'm glad Gar and I were sitting down.)

--Our after-hours poker games at these conferences are the funniest places on Earth, thanks to wisecrackers like Fitzhugh, Parnell Hall, Chris Goff and John Billheimer. I can't disclose specifics, but if any of those people ever again make a noise like a buzzing housefly, I will immediately wet my pants.

Feel free to share your own Left Coast highlights in the "comments" section.

Left Coast!

Leaving shortly for Left Coast Crime in Santa Fe! I am the Toastmaster at this year's conference, which I believe makes me some kind of superhero. I've packed my cape.

Left Coast is my favorite conference for mystery readers and writers. Just the right size (usually 400-500 people) and it's always held somewhere in the West, which makes it closer to home for me. We're delighted that it's in our beloved New Mexico this year, and Kel and I will get a quick visit with her family while we're there.

I'm doing panels on Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, and I interview Guest of Honor Steven Havill as one of the main events on Friday. And, of course, at the Saturday banquet, I will be the Toastmaster.

Hope to see some of you there. I'll be the one in the cape.

My Bouchercon joke

Sometimes, you hear a joke you like so much, you keep it to yourself, saving it for a special occasion. I did just that recently with a joke told to me by my Redding, CA, pal Rick Hobbs. I didn't post it on the Internet or e-mail it to my friends. I saved it for the after-hours poker game at Bouchercon.

And now I share it with you:

Two old boys were out hunting when they stumbled upon an enormous sinkhole in the woods. The hole was so deep that they couldn't see the bottom, so naturally they start looking around for something big to throw in there. Over in the bushes, they spot a rusty auto transmission. The two of them lift it and stagger over to the edge and heave the transmission into the hole.

They're both leaning out, listening for the transmission to hit bottom, when they hear an enormous crashing behind them. They wheel around just as a full-grown goat comes charging out of the bushes. The goat runs right between the two startled hunters, goes off the edge and disappears into the hole.

The hunters are dumbfounded. Before they can sort it out, a farmer in overalls ambles out of the woods and says, "Hey, you boys seen a goat?"

The hunters stammer out that they had by God just seen a goat, and that the goat had run right past them and committed suicide in that there sinkhole. Damnedest thing they'd ever seen.

And the farmer says: "Naw, that can't be my goat. My goat is chained to an old transmission."

That's my Bouchercon joke. Feel free to share it. Or save it for a special occasion.

Back from B'con

Wow, what a great time at Bouchercon, the World Mystery Convention, in San Francisco. The organizers put on a great conference for 1,400 of our best pals.

The conference was in the Hyatt on the Embarcadero, and our room looked out at the Bay Bridge. Sailboats, the Ferry Building, lots of great restaurants within walking distance, etc.

Kelly and I each moderated panels at the conference, and our author panelists did splendid jobs.

Most fun for me, as always, were the after-hours poker games. The authors who sit around those poker tables may well be the funniest people in the world.

Crazy busy

Weeks between posts here, but it's been such a busy month that I'm looking forward to Bouchercon this week as a place to wind down.

Bouchercon, the world mystery convention, is in San Francisco this year, and my wife Kelly and I are moderating panels on Friday. My 4:30 p.m. panel focuses on sex in mysteries. The panelists: Heather Graham, Lauren Henderson, Harley Jane Kozak, Rita Lakin and F. Paul Wilson. It don't get better than that, folks. Y'all come.

Here at home, we're still prepping for our move to Santa Cruz, CA. We found a 1930s bungalow within sight of Sunny Cove Beach. As Kel likes to say, here's our new front yard:


More later. I've got to go pack some stuff.

Left Coast fun

Kel and I had a great time over the weekend at Left Coast Crime, a convention for mystery fans. This year's event was in downtown Los Angeles, and the weather was great.

We spent lots of time with our pal Bill Fitzhugh, who did a great job as toastmaster. I can only hope I do as well when I'm toastmaster at next year's Left Coast in Santa Fe.

Congrats to all the volunteers who worked so hard to put on the convention.

Uncle Stevie's Rules for Writing

I'm giving the keynote speech at the Resolutions for Writers Seminar in Anderson, CA, today, and as part of that I'm telling some of the rules for writing that I've learned over the past 35 years.

Yes, I'm once again riding the coattails of Elmore Leonard, whose "rules" you can see at www.elmoreleonard.com. Mine are in addition to his, though there is some overlap, of course. Mostly, it's easier to put the rules here on my blog than it is to screw around with handouts at the conference.

Nothing really new here, but some good reminders:

--Write in scenes, and omit the stuff in between them.
--All drama (and comedy and romance) is conflict.
--Show, don't tell.
--Within scenes and within the overall story timeline: Come in late and get out early.
--Readers love dialogue. Use it lots, but keep it tight.
--Use the five senses and the "five W's and H" in your descriptive writing. Focus on the Telling Detail.
--Don't use two adjectives when one will do.
--Beware the adverb.
--Learn proper punctuation and use it. You're not Cormac McCarthy.
--Don't make the reader figure it out. Make it clear.
--Spend at least as much time on rewrites and polishing as on the first draft.
--Learn your craft and work hard.

If you'd like to hear the speech that goes with that (or any of my other talks), I'm available at reasonable rates for seminars, mystery conferences and bar mitzvahs.

Feel free to add your own rules for writing in the comments.

L.A. comin'

The folks who are putting together the next Left Coast Crime conference ask that all us blogger types remind you to register for Booked in L.A., which is coming up March 11-14 at the Omni Hotel in Los Angeles.

Some of my favorite people are among the honored guests: Jan Burke, Lee Child, Bill Fitzhugh and Janet Rudolph.

I'll be there, too.

For more info, click here: www.leftcoastcrime.org/2010/

Mysterious meetings

Though I've been off the circuit lately, I love mystery conventions, where fans and authors come together for serious discussions of the genre, networking and booze.

The calendar is chock-full of such events, all over the globe, so it’s possible, if you attend enough of them, to maintain a year-round hangover.

The fans at mystery conventions use up their vacation leave and spend their own money to travel to distant hotel bars in search of their favorite authors. They’re not as wacky as science fiction fans -- no plastic pointy ears or speaking in Klingon -- but they’re just as fervent, and they really know mysteries. A fixture at these conferences is a mystery trivia contest, and the readers always beat the writers.

For us authors, who spend so much time working alone, it’s a special treat to meet people who’ve read our books, especially if they liked them or at least show the common courtesy to keep their opinions to themselves. But it’s always a little embarrassing when you meet a fan who knows more about your books than you do.

Fan: I just read your novel, and really liked it.

Author: Thanks. That’s so nice to hear.

Fan: I had a question about one thing in the plot. Do you mind?

Author (chuckling): Bring it on.

Fan: In the beginning of that book, you have the killer escape through the bathroom window, but later when the detective is investigating Hubert’s death, he determines the window was too small for a human to climb through--

Author (behind frozen smile): I wrote a book about someone named Hubert?

Fan (confused): Your first novel? The one about the hitman? The guy who--

Author: A hitman?

Fan, really confused now, checks author’s name tag to make sure he’s got the right one. Begins to suspect author may be an impostor.

Author: Oh, look! A bartender!

How is it possible that the fan’s more familiar with the book than the author is? For one thing, the fan read it more recently. It might be a book written years ago, and lots of authors (including me) rarely go back and read our old stuff because it’s too painful. The characters in those books are like distant friends whose names we can barely remember. Plot points and telling details are long-forgotten.

(Some authors seem better at remembering their plotlines than others. Perhaps a heightened capacity for forgetfulness would explain why some write the same book over and over. Not that I'm naming any names.)

Usually, authors are caught up in the throes of a new tale. The current cast of characters fills our heads, which is why it’s a good thing everyone wears name tags at these conferences.

There’s more to the conferences than fans and authors jawing over drinks, of course. Informative panels, inspiring speakers, book promotion, industry gossip and after-hours poker make these excursions educational and tax-deductible. (OK, the poker’s not tax-deductible, but it’s often educational.)

The “face time” contributes to a sense of community, and that makes it worth enduring the occasional awkward encounter.

I’ve found a new way to handle questions about things in my own books that I can’t remember. I answer in Klingon.

How to get what you want at hotels

I travel a great deal for business and book tours, so I spend an awful lot of sleepless nights in hotels and motels.

(What's the difference between a hotel and a motel? A hundred bucks a night.)

I'm rarely happy with the experience. Noises keep me awake. The temperature's wrong and the room smells like feet. Your average motel mattress feels like a bag of hammers. The dark bathroom's unfamiliar and there's often a towel rack placed at just the right height to bruise my shoulder.

Do I complain? No. I expect my stay to be lousy. When I check out and the front desk clerk asks if everything was okay, I stoically mumble and nod and slump off to the airport. What's the point of complaining after the fact? No way to get that sleepless night back.

Turns out I've been doing it all wrong. The way to ensure a pleasant stay is to make demands in advance. Before you arrive, send a list of your desires so the hotel staff can scurry around and make the place feel like home.

Rock stars have known this for years. That's why their contracts carry riders that spell out, in excruciating detail, what foods and beverages will be available backstage and what they'll need in terms of accommodations, including the correct number of groupies.

We can't all be rock stars, but an online revelation shows that savvy business travelers can make precious demands, too, particularly if they're the vice president of the United States.

A website got hold of an official document called "Vice Presidential Downtime Requirements," which listed more than a dozen demands for VP Dick Cheney's hotel suites. Among them: All lights turned on, temperature set to 68 degrees, decaf coffee brewed prior to arrival, bottled water, "Diet Caffeine Free Sprite, 4 cans" and -- get this -- all televisions tuned to FOX News.

Now there's a business traveler who knows how to get what he wants. Taking a page from the Veep's book, I've created my own list of demands:

--Nonsmoking room that has been a nonsmoking room for longer than three days of airing out.

--King-sized bed. Mattress must contain no actual elbows.

--Room must be cleaned of all evidence of previous occupants, including stray hairs and toenail clippings.

--Bottled water that's not secretly $6 per swallow.

--A minibar stocked with pints rather than those tiny bottles.

--Coffeemaker and real coffee that hasn't been freeze-dried, vacuum-sealed, flash-roasted, recycled or stored in Juan Valdez's pants.

--No sirens, garbage trucks, construction vehicles, honking taxis or thundering hot rods anywhere within four square blocks of the hotel during traditional sleeping hours.

--That maid who hammers on the door and shrieks "Housekeeping!" approximately 17 times? She can't arrive before 11 a.m.

--Soft towels, not the starchy ones that peel off the first layer of skin. If I want a loofah, I'll ask for one.

--Basic toiletries, including shampoo that doesn't make one's hair staticky and standing on end all day long.

--Drunken conventioneers laughing loudly in the hallway at 2 a.m. will be shot. Unless I'm one of them.

--If a smoke alarm sounds in the night, there had better, by god, be a fire in the building. If the alarms wakes me from a sound sleep and there is no fire, I get to set one.

--Four cans of Diet Caffeine Free Sprite. Hey, if it's good enough for Dick Cheney …

--All televisions tuned to any channel except FOX News. Preferably ESPN or Comedy Central.

Groupies are optional.

Hello, my name is . . . I forget

The world would be a better place, filled with less animosity and anxiety, if we all wore name tags.

Cocktail parties, school events and church services wouldn't be so nerve-wracking if everyone wore the simple first-name-only badges typically worn at business conventions -- "Hello! My name is ILLEGIBLE SCRAWL."

Name badges would have many benefits to society, but the main reason for adopting such a system is this: I can't remember anybody's name anymore.

This could be a side effect of working alone at home. When I was reporter, out in the world, meeting people all the time, I was pretty good at putting names with faces. Now, I can't even recall the names of close relations, such as my children.

(This forgetfulness could also be a product of advancing age, but let's not go there.)

Though I work mostly in solitude, I sometimes go out in public for conventions and bookstore appearances. Also, my wife often drags me along to public events as "arm candy."

During these outings, I shake hands with many, many people and introduce myself each time. They say their names back, and I smile and nod, recognizing that I'm lost. The exchange has barely cleared my ears, but my brain already has filed the names in the overflowing trash bin of the forgotten.

This instantaneous forgetfulness requires that I fall back on deception and guile. Here's my guilty secret: Whenever I'm out in public, I call all the women "darlin'" and all the men "buddy" or "partner," as in "Hello, darlin'," or "Hey there, partner, how ya been?" This makes me appear friendly and casual, instead of a "space case" who can't recall the names of those he met as recently as one minute earlier.

At events where people wear name badges, I'm not forced to resort to such trickery. We all go around staring at each other's chests, but at least we avoid embarrassing name mistakes, such as calling a woman "Bill." Not that I've ever done that.

We should adopt name badges nationwide. We could bypass the sticky temporary badges in favor of fancy embroidery, such as you'll find on the shirts of bowlers and mechanics.

(I've noticed that the great majority of such shirts say, "Larry.")

Wouldn't life be less tense if we were all on a first-name basis? Wouldn't we be happier without the fear of forgetting the names of important people, such as our bosses? Wouldn't the loss of anonymity make us behave ourselves?

("Yes, officer, now that you mention it, the bank robber was wearing a shirt with his name on it. Put out an APB for someone named Larry.")

So, come on, America. Run right out and get some name badges. It's the one sure way for us all to get universal recognition. Someday, we'll know each other on sight, and we'll always get the names right.

Until that grand day arrives, I'll call you "darlin'" or "partner."

You can call me "Larry."

Home again, drunkenly

I'm back home from four days of debauchery, I mean networking.

The Left Coast Crime Conference in Denver was tons of fun, and I got to see a lot of my favorite people. Special thanks to Twist Phelan, who put together the panel I was on: "Writers on the hot seat." We got lots of laughs, and I expect my seat to cool off within another day or two.

As always, the after-hours poker game was the highlight for me. Some of the funniest people I've ever known sat around that table: Bill Fitzhugh, Parnell Hall, Donna Moore, Steve Stillwell, John Billheimer, Troy Cook, etc.

Chris Goff and all the other volunteers in Denver threw a great party.